


trust you

by unlshthfrckngbts



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Male Character, Transgender Mihashi Ren, abe is demi but it's probably not In Your Face, trans mihashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 20:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14027781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlshthfrckngbts/pseuds/unlshthfrckngbts
Summary: They were (supposed to be) studying.





	trust you

**Author's Note:**

> not only did i get into the oofuri fandom like a decade late, but i got So into it that i wrote fic for the first time since the awful days of middle school mcr slash (yikes). i really, really love the trans!mihashi headcanon, but there's little to no content, so here we are.

“My parents are at Shun’s game,” Abe explains, sliding the door shut behind him as he watches Mihashi peer around in confusion at the unusual silence of the Abe household. He looks relieved at not having to interact with Abe’s father, and Abe stifles a laugh as he slips his shoes off. He knows his father can be...a lot, and it’s probably a hundred times worse for Mihashi, but the relief was so clearly open on his face that Abe can’t help but laugh. He waits for Mihashi to toe his own shoes off, offering his arm for balance support before the two pad down the hallway and up the stairs to Abe’s room.

Abe gestures for Mihashi to sit on his bed while he rummages through his backpack for his English notes. When Mihashi hesitates, Abe gives him a questioning look. “Why are you so nervous to sit on your boyfriend’s bed?” he asks, realizing too late that it came out a little harsh. He tries to rectify. “You’ve been here before, you don’t have to be so hesitant.”

Mihashi flushes before plopping down and drawing his knees up to his chest. “It’s just...different?” he says against denim. “Because your parents aren’t here.”

Abe pauses for a moment, English notebook in hand and head tipped forward slightly, hoping Mihashi can’t see the blush on his own cheeks. He’d been trying to ignore that fact. They’re here to  _ study _ so that Mihashi doesn’t  _ fail _ and have to sit the rest of the season out. Sure, they’ve been dating officially for a while now and haven’t been able to get much time alone, but—

“Yeah,” he says, cutting off his own thoughts and coming to sit next to his pitcher. He opens his notebook in front of them, hoping his hands aren’t shaking as bad as he thinks they are. “I figured it’d be easier to concentrate without them here.”  _ Nice, _ he applauds himself. He wasn’t exactly sure he’d be able to connect his brain to his mouth.

Mihashi nods earnestly, seemingly oblivious to Abe’s internal struggle, and scoots closer.

They study for longer than Abe was expecting they’d be able to. He was no stranger to the limits of Mihashi’s concentration and was expecting the blond to slowly begin to sputter out after the half hour mark, but by the time a full hour had passed, Mihashi was still repeating words after Abe and reading the passages in his soft and slanted English.

In fact, it’s Abe who starts to get antsy. Abe, who can normally study for two straight hours without much trouble, is beginning to lose his focus the more Mihashi presses into his side and leans against his shoulder to read Abe’s messy notes. He can’t think when he can feel Mihashi’s breath against the side of his neck, which makes him stumble on his words and Mihashi laugh quietly, and that certainly doesn’t help either. He tries to keep himself together for Mihashi’s sake, knowing he needs the help, but when Mihashi muffles another giggle into his shoulder, he’s done for. Farewell, perfect study record.

“Do you wanna take a break?” he finally asks, feeling like he’s going to crawl out of his skin. He feels dizzy with Mihashi this close.

Mihashi hums an agreement, somehow sliding even closer to Abe and wrapping an arm around behind his back. “Yeah...I’m getting kind of tired of English.”

“When’s your next test?” Abe questions, leaning in to the touch and winding his own arm around the smaller boy. It still floors Abe how clingy and touchy Mihashi is with him when they’re alone—if they were at practice, he’d shy away after a few moments of even the slightest touch, but here he’s practically attached to Abe like a tick.

“Wednesday.”

“Hmm...we can go over some last minute notes during cool down stretches at morning practice that day, if you want.”

At that, Mihashi moves and looks up at Abe, hazel eyes narrowed playfully. “You really want me to pass.”

“Well, yeah,” Abe scoffs, looking away in minor embarrassment. “If you don’t pass, Momokan will have to bench you for the next few games or Shiga-sensei will raise hell.”

“One of the first years could...pitch....”

Abe looks at him in horror. “ _ What _ ?”

Mihashi reaches up to place both hands on Abe’s face, his expression halfway between amused and alarmed. “I’m just—I’m kidding!”

Abe furrows his brows. When did Mihashi ever joke about giving up the mound? “I don’t wanna catch for any of them,” he says, embarrassment at his selfishness and honesty burning his throat. “I don’t wanna catch for anyone but you. It doesn’t feel...right.”

Mihashi ducks his head, but not before Abe catches the blush. “It’s...the same for me,” he mumbles. He looks up suddenly then, eyes looking past Abe. “I like Tajima! I do! But it’s...different?” Abe inhales when those hazel eyes focus on him. “With you, pitching is...it’s  _ really _ fun! Like more than usual! And you being there just makes me feel? Safe? I don’t know...Tajima is a catcher, but he’s not...mine.”

Abe groans and pulls Mihashi’s face to his for a kiss. It’s a lot more desperate than he’ll ever admit, but he can’t seem to care. He feels like he could cry—whether at the sentiment behind what the blond said or the fact that he openly spoke his feelings and  _ so much _ , he’s not sure. What he is sure of though (or really, hyper aware of) is that Mihashi is fully pressing into the kiss, drawing up on his knees and pushing gently on Abe’s chest while his tongue licks into his mouth. They’d made out quite a few times before, and although not nearly as shy or hesitant as he was the first couple times, Mihashi was usually less likely to take initiative, complacent with Abe leading. But now...god, was Mihashi’s hand on his stomach now?

When they finally part, Abe rubs his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up at Mihashi, who somehow ended up in his lap. He’s panting just a little, cheeks flushed and eyes on Abe’s chest while his right hand feels like a ten pound weight on his stomach. It’s a pretty decent sight, if Abe’s dick is to judge.

He wants to slam his head back against the wall. They’d never really gotten this heated before, and like fuck if Abe’s not enjoying it, doesn’t want more, but he’s got to think about Mihashi. He watches the way the other boy sits perched over him, watches the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth as things catch up with him and his brain processes the situation. Abe reaches up and gently places his hands on Mihashi’s hips, trying to steady him mentally. He’d done a lot of research when he was out with his knee and had nothing to do but sit around for days, he has a pretty decent idea of what’s going through Mihashi’s mind right now.

“Mihashi—”

“Um—” Mihashi says at the same time, then meets his eyes in shock.

“What were you going to say?” Abe asks.

“Um,” Mihashi repeats, brows drawn in, eyes drifting back to somewhere around Abe’s collarbone. “Do you...do you think we could take...our clothes...off?”

The last part is barely above a whisper, and Abe feels it like a knife to his chest. “We don’t—”

“I want to!” he says, eyes shooting back up to Abe’s face. Blood suddenly rushes to his face and they shoot away again, this time to the side and to the forgotten English notebook. “I-I mean, if you want to. If you don’t, it’s! Okay! It’s okay, we don’t….”

Abe swallows and tries again, a new tactic this time. “Ren.”

Mihashi hums a vacant response, not listening and hand vanishing from Abe’s midsection to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Abe mentally curses himself for causing him to disappear into himself like this, like they’re first years again. His hands tighten their hold on Mihashi’s hips, willing him to come back.

“Ren, it’s not that I don’t want to.” He’d assumed that would be pretty obvious—there was no way Mihashi wasn’t aware of his hard-on, what with him sitting right over it. “It’s just...do  _ you _ want to?”

“W-wha—”

“I’m just,” Abe starts, urging his brain to send the right words to his mouth, “trying to make sure you’re not doing this for me or anything. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you’re not comfortable with for my sake.”

Mihashi is silent for a minute, still avoiding Abe’s eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is small, but it’s firm. “I want to.”

Abe takes a deep breath, and Mihashi finally meets his eyes. He can see the nervousness in them, but they’re clear. He’s being honest. “Okay...okay.” He feels like he’s going to explode. “What do you want to do?”

“Could we just...take off our shirts? And pants?” Mihashi asks, face red. “Start there?”

Abe can feel his face warm too, and he nods, letting Mihashi hop off his place in his lap to slide off his bed and stand up before doing the same himself. Mihashi is facing away from him as he unbuttons his shirt and slides it off his shoulders, slowly, and Abe notices his trembling fingers and the way his blush had spread down to his shoulders. He watches his shoulders rise like he’s taking a steeling breath before he drops the shirt to the floor, and Abe pulls his own shirt off. Mihashi then bends slightly to undo his jeans, and Abe fumbles with his own.

After he’s finally standing in nothing but his boxers, Abe starts to feel the weight of the situation. Mihashi is still standing with his back to him, fists clenched at his side and pants still on. He wants to reach a hand out and tell him they can get dressed and order dinner, but before his fingers can make contact with a pink shoulder, Mihashi huffs again and practically  _ throws _ his pants down, nearly stumbling to kick them off in a hurry. When he turns to face Abe, his face is even redder than before and his eyes are squeezed shut.

_ This has to be one of the hardest and scariest things he’s done, _ Abe tells himself, biting back his now painfully trivial embarrassment at the tent in his shorts. He takes a step forward and pulls Mihashi to him, threading his fingers into golden hair and holding the back of his head as the shorter boy buries his face into Abe’s neck and releases a tiny choked noise.

“We don’t ha—”

“I want to!” Mihashi cuts him off. Abe runs a hand up and down his side in an attempt to calm him down and realizes how thin and worn out the fabric of his binder is. He’d figured that he’d probably keep it on. In fact, when he’d imagined this moment—which, yeah, he’d done a few times since they’d started dating, but to be clear, he still wasn’t, and wouldn’t ever be, as bad as the rest of his teammates with their fantasies—he hadn’t really factored in a scenario where Mihashi took it off, and the consistency with his expectations is somewhat calming. “I  _ really _ want to...I want to be close to you. I just...wish I could be the kind of boy you want.”

Abe feels like he’s been  _ stabbed _ his heart hurts so bad. “You are,” he chokes out. “I don’t care about that other shit. You’re the kind of boy I want because you’re  _ you _ . I’ve never felt anything like this before you.”

Mihashi looks up at him. There are tears in his eyes, and Abe just can’t handle that. He can’t handle this part of Mihashi’s anxiety because it’s  _ bullshit _ . It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he feels like this, like he’s not good enough or something because people have told him and made him feel that way. It’s not fair that this is the only part of Mihashi Ren that they see, the only part that they acknowledge when considering him as a whole when there are  _ so many _ other parts of him, so many more  _ important _ parts, like how he’s a fantastic pitcher and how he worked  _ so hard _ to get to that point, or how he knows his way around a kitchen better than any high schooler Abe has met, or how he dedicates himself one hundred percent to anything he does. It’s not  _ fair _ .

It takes a moment for Abe to register that his vision is blurring because he’s crying. He’s crying because Mihashi Ren, of all people on the damn planet, has been made to feel like he’s inadequate and unworthy of love, but every day Abe feels like he’s going to spill over with how much he cares about this timid boy. He cares so much that some days he feels like his lungs are collapsing as he watches Mihashi’s damn near perfect windup on the mound and catches his actually perfect pitches; feels like his stomach is being tied into a sailor’s knot when he feels Mihashi’s fingers flutter against his own on the walk home; feels like his heart is trapped in the constriction of a snake when he sees Mihashi’s face light up and crease into a smile in the glow of a dying evening sun.

But he’s Abe Takaya. He’s rough where Mihashi is smooth, he’s hard where he’s soft, and no matter how hard he’s tried to work on it, he’s still at a loss when it comes to conveying these things, these specifics, these details. He doesn’t know  _ how _ to say it because it’s absurd that it’s not already common knowledge, he’s afraid to  _ try _ to say it in case he fucks up and somehow ruins everything. Abe is skilled in quite a few areas, but he’s aware of his flaws and knows he’s still lacking in the whole Verbally Communicating the Entireties of Softer Emotions department, so he cheats. He goes around it for now, uses a different strategy: he acts. He cups Mihashi’s face and presses their lips together so hard he momentarily worries he’ll bruise the other boy, but more importantly he wills— _ begs _ —that the message makes it through, that Mihashi will receive at least some inkling of what exactly is going on in his head and his chest that he can’t seem to speak aloud.

Mihashi is still, and panic claws up Abe’s throat. He pulls back, afraid Mihashi has gone off again, but when he looks into that tear stained face, Mihashi’s lip quivers just a moment before he speaks, quietly, unsure:

“Yeah?”

It’s ridiculous. It’s a single word, it has absolutely no context, and it could mean anything. It could mean nothing.

It could mean everything. Mihashi reaches up and drags Abe back, and Abe is unprepared for the force with which he kisses him, like there should be starbursts behind his eyelids from the impact. It’s almost as if Mihashi is trying to convey his own thoughts and emotions through the contact, probably assuming this method has better odds of getting across than his likely broken speech. Abe can’t quite decipher them exactly, but he feels like he’s going to cry again.

When Mihashi’s hand slides down Abe’s neck and to his chest, he doesn’t stop him. Instead, he gently guides Mihashi back to his bed, pressing just the slightest on his shoulders to prompt him to sit. He then lodges a knee—not his bad one, he’ll probably be wary of that knee for the rest of his life after the internal agony that ensued—beside Mihashi’s thigh and leans down into it, sinking into the mattress without breaking the kiss. He brings his other knee in too until he’s straddling Mihashi’s thighs, and the blond’s hands find their way to Abe’s bowed back almost immediately, pulling him farther down, pulling him closer.

However, Mihashi pulls just a little too hard and Abe lets himself lean a little too far, and they go falling back into the bed. Mihashi lets out a small, surprised gasp and Abe quickly throws out an arm so he won’t crush the smaller boy, landing on an elbow above his shoulder. Now separated, he gets a good look at Mihashi and—

And Mihashi laughs. It’s a small, puffy noise, almost like a fast and forced exhale, but Abe knows it, knows it like the back of his hand because he’s cherished every single time he’s heard that sound, and he laughs too.

“Getting a little too greedy?” he asks, laying his forehead against the blond’s shoulder and appreciating the moment to breathe.

“Maybe,” Mihashi says. Abe can feel the speeded rise and fall of his chest as he takes a minute to breathe too. “Got a little carried away. I never...considered this could happen.”

Abe makes a noise in the back of his throat, something between a hum and a grunt. His hand at Mihashi’s waist rubs circles into his skin, a small, nonverbal attempt to prevent him from becoming upset again.

“Never considered that maybe...more?”

There’s a gap in his wording, probably from nerves, but Abe understands. He raises his head to meet hazel eyes and asks, for what feels like the tenth time today, “Are you sure?”

Mihashi’s response is a quick, short nod. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are wide, and Abe feels it right in his gut. He presses a kiss to Mihashi’s warm shoulder.

“What did you have in mind?” he asks, lips brushing the sun-freckled skin. If Mihashi wants this, he’s not going to object, but he’s going to have to go about this very carefully. Abe might call the shots in a game, but in the bedroom, it has to be Mihashi. Abe’s done a lot of research, has a vague idea of common boundaries and preferences when it comes to intimacy and being transgender, but he doesn’t know Mihashi’s specifics. And, honestly, even when he does learn them, he’d still probably be more comfortable if Mihashi was in charge. This is too important for him to accidentally overstep and ruin.

“Um,” Mihashi starts, his fingers fluttering over Abe’s back. “I don’t think—at least, not now, but no...penetration?”

Abe can hear the embarrassment in his voice, and talking about it in the open is making him self-conscious too, but he’s genuinely relieved by Mihashi’s words. Whenever he’d get to this point in his imagination, he could never quite figure out what happened next. There was always a faint panic at the unknownness of it, and part of him was actually afraid he could hurt Mihashi somehow or make him uncomfortable or overstep.

“Sorry,” Mihashi mumbles. Apparently Abe had waited too long to give a response, and now he’s under the impression Abe’s upset or mad.

“What? No.” Abe kisses his shoulder again, this time a little closer to his neck. “Really, I’m kind of glad. I hadn’t really thought about it that way because it made me too nervous.”

“Oh, so you think about it?”

Goddammit, of all the times for Mihashi to be perceptive. And what was that sly tone? Is Mihashi teasing him? Abe feels like he’s burning. “Yeah. I’ve never thought about...any of this, really, with anybody else. Never wanted to.” He’s digging his own grave, he knows it. Might as well lay in it. “So I was kind of overwhelmed by the possibilities.”

Mihashi’s hand on his back stills, and Abe can almost imagine the look on his face when he speaks—brows drawn, a small frown. “I didn’t realize you were—were nervous?—about this, too.”

“Yeah,” Abe hums, gliding his fingers up Mihashi’s side. “I don’t want to do anything wrong. I just—” he glances up and meets Mihashi’s gaze, “—want to make you feel good.”

Mihashi closes his mouth around something like a whine, and he yanks Abe’s face to him for an immediately open-mouthed kiss. Abe can feel the desperation in it and the way Mihashi’s fingers curl in his hair, and his own pulse speeds in response. Mihashi’s eagerness has him hard again, and when the blond pulls back enough just to breathe and practically pants into his own open mouth, he swallows a groan. He quickly recaptures Mihashi’s lips, but when the other boy’s fingers stutter to the hem of his boxers, he breaks away and takes a deep breath.

“Can I go down on you?” Abe asks, not allowing himself to think about it and get embarrassed. It’s Mihashi. He shouldn’t be embarrassed.

Mihashi, however, seems very embarrassed. His face is about as red as the cursive on their game jerseys, eyes wide as baseballs. He presses his mouth into a thin line and Abe starts to panic, but then he’s nodding fast, albeit a little shakily.

Abe’s brain slowly starts to gain momentum. Okay, first step down. He’s not sure if Mihashi has any knowledge with any of this, but he starts to remember the teen magazine articles he read online in incognito mode as he slides down and off his bed. Mihashi sits up at the edge of the mattress and watches him closely without saying a word.

“Ren, you….” He trails off, unable to figure out how to say it.

“Yeah,” Mihashi says. “Can I have a minute?”

“Of course.” Abe reaches out his hand, and before he’s even got it to the halfway point between them, Mihashi’s own hand is shooting out on instinct. Their palms meet, and Abe is relieved that Mihashi’s hand is only a degree or two cooler than his own.

Seemingly strengthened by this, Mihashi stands, strips his shorts, and glances up shyly. Abe feels like everything twisting in his chest is going to spill out his mouth, and maybe his hands shake just a little when he kisses Mihashi, maybe his fingers tremble when he pushes him down to the bed and pulls his hips to the edge of the mattress, but he’ll never admit it.

“You have to tell me if I do something you don’t like,” he says, meeting Mihashi’s eyes. The blond nods, and Abe holds his gaze just a little longer, hoping it’ll emphasize his seriousness. He settles into a crouch, thankful that something in this situation is so familiar, and then he takes a deep breath and kisses Mihashi’s knees before gently nudging his legs open.

It’s not like it’s some revelation or anything. While he may not have ever seen a vagina in person, Abe’s seen diagrams in health class and online (and, once, a picture—on accident—from Tajima when Abe had walked into the clubroom and naively asked what the third baseman was showing everyone else on his phone). He starts by trailing kisses from Mihashi’s knee up his thigh, partly because that’s what one blog post suggested, and partly to buy himself time to calm down a little. When he reaches the inside of his upper thigh, he stops to bite the skin carefully before sucking on it. Mihashi makes a noise above him but doesn’t protest, so Abe continues. The skin of Mihashi’s thigh is soft, but he can feel the lean muscle underneath. It’s almost feverish to touch, and Abe hopes that’s a good sign.

Once he’s satisfied with the mark beginning to bloom, Abe decides that it’s time to get going. He gently pushes skin folds until he finds what he’s looking for. Every article he’d read had stressed the clitoris to all hell, and now faced with its reality, his mouth feels dry, but when he experimentally rubs it with his fingers and Mihashi  _ reacts _ , lets out a shocked gasp, his nerves dial down a decent amount. He repeats the action but with a little more force, and Mihashi makes another noise and pushes into his touch just the slightest, and yeah, that’s definitely a good sign.

Abe’s head is spinning as he leans in and slowly drags his tongue over Mihashi. It’s got a specific taste, but it’s not that bad.

“Ah, that’s,” Mihashi gasps. Abe pauses, waiting for him to finish in case he asks him to stop. Instead, “That feels w-weird, but good.”

Everything seems to burst within Abe. He’s making Mihashi feel good—fuck, Mihashi is trusting him enough to even do any of this in the first place. He squeezes Mihashi’s thigh in acknowledgement and returns his tongue.

He’d read a lot of different methods to go down on someone, and a few comments had recommended using your tongue to write out words, letter by letter. That had intrigued Abe, so he tries it now, starting with his last name. A-B-E.

Mihashi mewls, and Abe knows he’s going to remember that sound for the rest of his life. He tries his first name—Takaya—next, and Mihashi’s hips lift from the mattress ever so slightly, and fuck, that’s hot. Abe takes a second to press another kiss to Mihashi’s thigh, trying to pace himself because if he jizzes his shorts right here and now, it wouldn’t be fair to Mihashi. This is supposed to be about him.

“Takaya,” Mihashi whines. “D-don’t stop.”

Abe exhales hard through his nose.  _ Holy shit, _ he thinks. Mihashi was  _ begging _ , and he’s never been so hard in his  _ life _ .

He dutifully returns to the matter at hand, this time alternating between swirling his tongue and using his fingers. Mihashi continues making noises that are instantly ingrained in Abe’s brain, and when his hand gripping the sheets reaches out blindly, Abe grabs it and Mihashi clutches at him like a lifeline, his pitcher grip numbing Abe’s finger in near seconds. He can’t seem to care though, not now that Mihashi’s breathing is getting faster.

It’s not long after that Mihashi lets out a gasp and his hips jerk once more before Abe can feel him tense and tremble. He gives Mihashi one more lap with his tongue and then leans his head on his thigh, wishing he could’ve seen Mihashi’s face. He pets his thigh as he rides out his orgasm, waiting for him to come back down.

“Takaya?” Mihashi asks after a minute, pulling their joined hands and propped up on his elbows. Abe stands, and his thighs are burning and his dick is near throbbing, but he meets Mihashi when he leans up for a kiss.

“I wasn’t sure you’d wanna kiss me after that,” Abe blurts when they part.

Mihashi shakes his head quickly. “That was...really amazing. Thank you.”

Abe swallows back the groan rising in his throat.

“Oh!” Mihashi exclaims, and Abe watches his face flush before his eyes. “You….”

“It’s okay,” Abe says, knowing what’s coming. “I can handle it.”

“Can I?”

Jesus, what did Abe do to deserve Mihashi asking him that with shy excitement on his face? He can’t say no to that even if he wanted to. He swallows and manages a nod.

“You’re gonna have to take your underwear off, Taka,” Mihashi says after a minute of Abe just staring, and goddammit, he’d totally blanked out and there was that teasing tone again.

Abe shucks his boxers quicker than he’s ever done, not even bothering to stand up and instead just shoving them down his legs and kicking them off over the edge of the bed. He’s a little embarrassed by Mihashi’s eagle gaze, self conscious with the way he’s staring at him in wonder like he’s observing a marble sculpture instead of his boyfriend’s embarrassingly hard erection.

“...my mouth?” Mihashi asks, eyes flitting to Abe’s face. Abe practically comes at the mere idea and he shakes his head, offering a gruff “next time” because really, he knows he’s not going to last very long, and he knows that if Mihashi was to put his mouth anywhere near him right now, he’d probably not even make it three seconds.

Instead, he instructs Mihashi to sit against the wall and then settles between his legs, leaning his back up against the blond’s chest at an angle where Mihashi can see over his shoulder. “Spit on your hand,” he says, and when Mihashi does, Abe takes his wrist and guides his hand to his dick. Mihashi wraps his fingers around it tentatively, and this time, Abe allows himself to release the noise he’d previously been withholding.

“A little tighter,” he manages, and when Mihashi obeys, somehow achieving the exact pressure Abe likes, he thinks he might die. Mihashi hasn’t even started pumping yet and he’s already this close.

“Okay now….” He grabs Mihashi’s wrist again and shows him instead of trying to put it into words. Mihashi makes a small chirp of acknowledgement and when Abe releases his wrist, he gives a slow and experimental jerk that’s equal parts torturous and incredible.

“Faster,” Abe says, unwilling to admit to himself that now  _ he’s _ the one begging while also trying to keep himself from thrusting up into Mihashi’s hand. Mihashi obeys and quickly settles into a rhythm, and Abe realizes with horror that he really  _ isn’t  _ going to last very long.

The final strike comes when Abe notices that yes, Mihashi is using his pitching hand to jerk him off, and he wheezes something resembling  _ Ren _ as the orgasm hits him like a train. He barely manages to cup his hand over and catch everything, and Mihashi makes a surprised sound, letting go of him immediately. Abe takes his place and gives himself a couple last pumps through it, figuring he can mention it to Mihashi for next time.

Next time.

When the haze clears from his brain, Abe realizes how boneless his body feels, and how warm Mihashi is behind him. He sits up properly and snags something—his shirt—from the floor to wipe off his hand with, and Mihashi slides out from behind him to wiggle back into his shorts. Abe does the same and then flops onto his back, feeling both heavy and light as Mihashi climbs in to curl up against him, a warm hand reaching up to rest on his chest as a head of blond hair nuzzles into his shoulder. Abe wraps a protective arm around Mihashi as he realizes that actually, his body feels light, but his heart is heavy with these recent events. Mihashi had trusted him—trusted him one hundred percent in one of the most nerve-wracking situations for the both of them—and goddammit, that’s just a lot for Abe’s heart to handle when he’d been working for the past year and a half to become someone Mihashi could trust so wholly.

“Hey,” Mihashi says after a while, his soft voice pulling Abe from his thoughts. “Why’d you sit like that? And have me be behind you?”

“The angle’s easier.”

Mihashi hums. “Wish I could’ve seen your face.”

Abe looks down to see Mihashi watching him, and he laughs. “Next time we can figure something different out.”

“Next time,” Mihashi echoes.

“Do you think your mom would let you stay the night?” Abe asks, almost laughing again when Mihashi’s eyes light up. “We need more time to get you prepared for that English test since we got distracted.”

Mihashi scrunches his face into a look of disgust at the mention of schoolwork, and this time, Abe allows himself to laugh. Somehow, by some work of fate, Mihashi Ren came into his life and allowed Abe into his, and Abe doesn’t know how he managed without this other boy for so long. And when Mihashi smiles his million watt smile and laughs with him, well. Abe  _ really _ doesn’t know how he managed without that in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao can you tell i'm ace  
> hmu on [tumblr](http://unleashthefrickingbats.tumblr.com/) ! <3


End file.
